Tender-loving Care 

A few days ago, I had a really bad day.  It was as though the day had conspired to serve me a healthy dose of frustration and annoyance! 

Needless to say, by the end of the day, I was exasperated. Actually, the more accurate thing to say is that I was extremely annoyed at God for allowing me to be on the receiving end of what I thought was undeserved.    

So at bedtime, I told the Lord that I could not believe He would let me have such a day, and for that reason I would not be saying my daily pre-bedtime prayer. (What irony to be talking to Him, while saying I will not pray!) It took a while to fall asleep, but I eventually did. 

Only for my sleep to disappear a couple of hours later! 

Now, I instantly knew that the Lord had woken me up so we could “discuss” the matter. But, I was still feeling let down by Him and was unwilling to discuss the day. After all, from where I stood, it was Him who had allowed so much to go south!  I told Him this was how I was feeling and that I wouldn’t be sitting up so we could have a chat. (For the record—I don’t recommend you do this!) 

Shortly after, I began to feel a soothing in my heart. The pain and anger I was feeling began to melt away. I knew what was happening because this is how the Lord responds whenever I go to Him asking Him to heal my emotions because someone has hurt me (and I don’t want to slip into resentment or bitterness).

A moment or so later, the anger and (pain of) betrayal I felt was gone. Totally lifted! 

And just like that—in the unlikeliest of situations—the Lord expressed His tender love and care towards me. What surprises me the most, however, is that He soothed my heart on a day that my anger was directed at Him, and that He did this without me asking.  

His act of tenderness has stayed with me and it brings two things to mind. First, is the description Jesus gave of our Father in heaven going in search of a lost sheep and carrying it in His arms when it is found (Luke 15:5–6). Second is the psalm that describes God’s compassion . . .